Tragedy's Master
by Aquarius Princess
Summary: When the death of their guardians leave Carly and Freddie's life in shambles, they seek each other for comfort. Six months later, Sam grows suspicious of the "perfect couple" and she finds out they are everything but...Creddie, Seddie
1. Question And Answer

Now, I just want everyone to know that usually I don't like self-harming Freddie. I don't believe that if you just ripped him off the show right now, he would have that pathology.

However, I can see that if a set of circumstances were to occur, it would be one of the things he turned to.

So, Aquarius Princess presents….

Tragedy's Master

* * *

Sam sighed as she opened and closed her phone.

No new messages.

She told him that if he needed anything, he could call her.

No new messages.

It was tedious.

No new messages.

Yet if he ever called or texted, she wanted to know the exact second.

No new messages.

Sam sighed before she placed her phone on the end table. She didn't know why she cared. After all, the subject of her concern was a nub, a geek, a weakling. It was her enemy. Her frenemy. Whatever he was.

The point being that he was not worth her time. What he did was none of her business.

Yet…

No one deserves to be down that low.

Sam remembered walking in on the dweeb.

The bathroom door wasn't locked. If he didn't want anyone to find out, he should have locked it.

_**But he didn't expect anyone to come over.**_

Don't argue with me.

* * *

She was concerned. She wanted to know what was going on.

As soon as she went into his apartment, she smelt blood.

Her primal instinct was to look for Freddie. Her heart began to pound. Her mind began to race. All she could think about was "is Freddie okay? is Freddie okay?"

She didn't even think about it. She just followed the smell of blood to the bathroom. The door was shut, but it wasn't unlocked. She opened the door.

The knife clattered to the title floor.

He had pulled his sleeve down, but she already saw it.

His scarred arm and the fresh cut on it. It was small, no bigger than half an inch.

Blood was seeping out. It smeared on his skin and his sleeve as he covered the wound.

Freddie started to stammer. Sam imagined that he was trying to rack his brain for an excuse.

There had to be a plausible explanation for what she saw.

She had drawn her own conclusions. She snapped at him and asked him if he thought his mother would want him to do this.

Sam was not stupid. She knew that he was upset over her death. She thought that he was over it now. It had been almost six months since the accident.

But the Freddie she knew was sensitive. He felt deeper than she ever could. He could take a lot physically (you had to if you were Sam's friend), but when it came to emotions, it was like someone was stabbing him in the heart.

Freddie had said nothing,

Sam just scoffed as she opened the medicine cabinet and searched around for bandages and disinfectant. Of course since it was the Benson apartment, there was hundreds of boxes and bottles of medicine. Sam grabbed a box of bandages and the disinfectant.

Seeing this, Freddie had pulled his sleeve up. As Sam began to clean the wound, she looked over his arm to see what else was on it.

Cuts, cuts, and cuts. Some were small, some were big. Some were jagged, some were straight. Some were in Xs, some were in crosses. Some looked fresh, some looked old.

As she put the bandage over his latest cut, she said his name, quietly.

He looked at her and his eyes were full of humiliation.

She asked why.

He shook his head. He didn't look like he wanted to tell her. Sam couldn't blame him. She knew that if she was in his position, she wouldn't tell anyone. It was a matter of dignity.

She then noticed something else. It was his right hand. His knuckles looked like they had been scraped, healed over, and scraped again. She wondered how it happened, but she had another thing on her mind.

She asked where Carly was. She figured that she would be here. Carly and Freddie had been living together ever since the accident.

Freddie shrugged, showing no indication that he knew where his girlfriend was.

Sam frowned at this. She wondered if Carly knew about this. She hoped not. Because if she knew and did nothing about it, that would be completely out of her character.

The blond then told him that if he stopped or at least held back a little bit, she would not tell anyone.

Freddie had a look in his eyes that told her that he was going to do the precise opposite, but be more careful about hiding the cuts.

Knowing it was a lost cause, Sam had told him to call her if he needed anyone to talk to.

She then picked up the knife on the floor. She looked at it and saw that it only had one blood stain on it. He must have others.

Hoping that he would use his brain for something other than school, Sam had thrown the knife away.

* * *

And now here she was, laying on her bed, waiting for the call. She knew that he wouldn't talk to her.

He would go to his precious Carly with his problems. She would make him feel all warm and fuzzy. She would give him what Sam couldn't give him.

Sam felt her stomach clench at that thought.

Thinking that she was hungry, Sam got off her bed and went downstairs. It was late in the evening, around nine o'clock. Her mother was in the living room, drinking herself to sleep.

Contrary to popular belief, Sam's mother was not an abusive, lazy good-for-nothing. Mrs. Puckett could be a caring mother between the hours of two o'clock and five o'clock. The rest of the time, the woman was either drunk or passed out. She had been this way since her husband had died in Iraq. That was over ten years ago. So, she had been slowly drinking herself to death for nearly a decade. Sam and Melanie, knowing no other form of parenting, thought this was normal so they went on with their lives. They took after their father. They were independent and strong.

Sam made sure she kept quiet as she opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a box of fried chicken. She closed the door and went back upstairs to her room.

As she sat down on her bed and went to turn on her TV, she heard her phone beep. She looked over and saw that she had a new message. Thinking it was from Freddie, Sam immediately dropped the box of chicken and the remote. She opened the phone and read the text. She sighed, seeing it was from Carly instead.

_Hey, Sam, there's a party at Wendy's. Want to come?_

Sam sighed as she texted back.

_No, I think I'm just going to hang out at home with fried chicken and Nickelodeon._

Carly quickly replied.

_OK. I'll just see you at school Monday._

Sam remembered Freddie and sighed as she texted back.

_Maybe you should go home. I think Freddie has something to tell you._

It took a few minutes before Carly texted her.

_Don't be silly. I just talked to him. He sounded fine to me. Later._

Sam frowned at this as she texted as fast as she could.

_No, I think there's something that you really need to ask him about. You need to go home now._

Carly texted back.

_Sam, just because you don't have a man that doesn't mean you can stick your nose into other people's relationships. Now, I'll see you later. Bye._

Sam frowned at this. Carly had never been that snippy with her.

"What the hell did I get myself into?" Sam asked herself as she munched on her chicken and watched Big Time Rush.

It had been almost six months that Carly and Freddie had been together. It made Sam want to puke every second, but if they made each other happy, then it was their business.

It all started out of the most tragic accidents.

Mrs. Benson and Spencer were driving Carly and Freddie to this school dance to meet their dates, Shane and Shannon. It was Spencer's car, but Mrs. Benson wanted to come along as well to see that Freddie got there okay.

Sam didn't know the whole story. All she knew was that Spencer had turned around at the wrong time and didn't see the drunk driver that hit his car head first.

The entire front of his small car was smashed. The EMTs said it was a miracle that Carly and Freddie were alive.

Since they were sixteen, they were able to convince the courts to let them live by themselves.

Sam never really understood why Carly moved into Freddie's apartment. Maybe it was because she was scared and needed someone.

Whatever the reason, they were joined at the hip from then until now. But Sam was noticing changes that started three months ago.

Freddie had become quieter. He no longer snapped back at Sam when she made a comment. He began wearing darker clothes. And he began to get smaller and smaller as the weeks went by.

Needless to say, Sam was concerned.

"But why is the question…" Sam thought to herself as she tore off the skin of her chicken.


	2. Racing For Recovery

The next morning was a soft and strange one. Like everything was a daze and a dream.

Yet everything was like a dream to Freddie.

He could zone out and lose hours within seconds.

Zone completely out until he could not see what was in front of his face.

He could walk into a room and sit down at his desk.

He could take out a notebook and just draw for the entire class period.

Just zone out and draw.

And when he looked down at his drawing, he found full-scale masterpieces of abstract art.

Lines and circles entwining to reveal a gorgeous work of art.

The teacher would just watch in disappointment as they watched their once star pupil leave the room.

It was the routine, the ritual, his way of life.

And as he sat in Algebra class, he looked over to Sam.

A soft whisper.

"Are you okay?" she had asked, looking up at him from her mid morning snack.

"Yeah…" Freddie replied before he went back to his notebook.

Dark gray lines scattered over the page. He was reminded of an eagle with a snake in its claws.

"Why do you care?" Freddie finally asked, looking to her.

The blond paused once before she bit her lip and turned away. She then turned back, "You're my friend, dork. I know that we hate each other, but we're still friends. Right?"

Friendship.

Love.

"I don't do it often," Freddie told her.

Once a night, twice on Sundays.

"Is there anything else I should know about?" Sam asked.

"Quiet, Puckett!" The teacher yelled, throwing a chalkboard eraser at Sam's head.

Freddie turned back to his notebook and zoned out once more.

* * *

_Freddie's pinky nail broke as he grabbed the rims of the toilet and threw up. He cried out slightly before his body shook with the motion. He watched as his sins and indulgences left his body. He saw red streaks within and his first thought was of the two helpings of spaghetti that he had._

_The mere image of this forced Freddie to do it once more. He stuck his index and middle figure into his mouth. He wiggled it slightly as it activated his gag reflex. He pulled his fingers out and he grabbed the rim once more._

_As soon as he was satisfied with the results, Freddie went to flush. He noticed that the red streaked his fingers and it was on the rim of the toilet. Freddie frowned._

_Maybe it wasn't sauce…He knew that smell…_

* * *

Freddie blinked when he noticed that something was placed over his notebook. It was a white paper with black writing on it. There was also numbers and letters on it as well. And there was only one color on the paper. Red. A red circle with a red F inside the circle.

"Better luck next time, Benson," The teacher said as he went over to give the rest of the students their papers.

Freddie glanced over to see that Sam had gotten a B- on the test.

She looked over and saw his F. "Freddie, didn't you study or whatever it is you nerds do?"

He blinked softly before he took the paper and balled it up. He threw it in the trash can and went back to his notebook.

The bell rang and Freddie slowly got out of his seat. He put himself on auto pilot as he went to his locker.

His daze was broken by a beautiful sight.

Carly was right in front of his locker. She was wearing a pink tank top with a white skirt. There was a silk pink belt that went around the white skirt. Her hair was loose and long and her lip gloss glittered like a starlit sky.

"Hey, Freddie," Carly said, sweetly as he approached his locker.

He let a smile form on his lips, "Hey, yourself." Freddie started to talk to her about his test, but Carly had put a finger to his lips. He was silenced immediately.

"Don't talk," Carly told him as she took his hand and went to led him to the janitor's closet.

Freddie didn't like the janitor's closet. It smelled of ammonia and bleach. It was dark with only one light coming from the bulb in the corner of the room. The floor was slippery with water and wax and it stuck itself to Freddie's clothing whenever he got up to leave.

But it was the only place for privacy when Carly wanted her mid-morning make out session. Not that Carly was the only one who wanted the session. Freddie just wanted somewhere a little classier.

When it came to romance, Freddie was not experienced, but he knew what he wanted.

He never wanted this.

Carly opened the door and pulled Freddie inside. Freddie assumed the position. Backed up against the wall.

No preparation. No sweet nothings. No class.

Just another fifteen minutes on autopilot.

Carly's kisses tasted like cherries. Articifial flavored cherries from the lip-gloss

Thoughtless kissing. Lips colliding with each other like how the drunk driver collided with Spencer's car.

No! He didn't need to see that again. Not now. Not the image the wrecked his brain for months at a time.

As the tempo of the kissing rose, so did the graphic image.

The jerking motion of how they were stopped by the collision. The glass flew threw the air as the window shield shattered.

Freddie had knocked his head. He never remembered how. He just remembered thinking, 'Mom's gonna kill me for messing up these clothes…'

The nurse had said that he had asked for four people while he was unconscious in the hospital bed.

His mother. Not unusual. She was his caregiver and he was very close to her.

Carly. She was the love of his life. His long time crush.

Spencer. The closest thing that he had to an older brother.

And Sam. His tormentor. His daily abuser. Why did he ask for her?

Why did he ask for Sam?


	3. Someone's In The Kitchen With Dinah

Ten years ago…

Carly was a good girl. She was sweet and innocent like a child. She played with dolls and had her room painted pink. She wore dresses in pastel colors. Blue, pink, and yellow. Her walls were covered in butterflies and Alice In Wonderland paintings. Her bedspread was a beautiful quilt made by her grandmother.

She was given a white kitten that she named Dinah. After Alice's cat. Carly loved that cat so much. It had been a gift from Spencer for her sixth birthday. At the time, Spencer had been living in a ratty apartment in the bad side of town. Spencer said that it was close to the junkyard and it was where his muse was strongest. Their father said it was the center of crime. Spencer had never got that until his girlfriend was gang raped and killed a block away from his apartment.

Spencer had tried to commit suicide the next day. He set his apartment on fire and tied himself to the bed. And for the first time in years, there was a soul with a conscience in that apartment. An ambulance came and got Spencer out. All the while he had screamed over and over again, "Let me die! Let this whole damn building burn straight to hell!"

After he got out of the hospital, he bought the kitten and gave it to Carly. He told her that she was the only thing in his life that reminded him that there was still good in the world.

Back to our story, Carly was the princess. She was Daddy's little girl and Mommy's doll. Carly loved to dress up in her mother's clothes and play with her make up.

And one day, the fairy tale world shattered.

Carly was in her room, playing with Dinah as usual. She loved picking the kitten up and tossing her in the air. She was always there to catch the little tuff of whiteness. And it was in one moment that she heard it.

Moaning and laughs.

Carly ignored it. After all, it was a usual sound. Her mother was with her friend. And Carly needed to be a good girl and stay in her room and not make a sound.

But then, the moaning and laughing stopped. Carly was curious and concerned. She opened the door to her room and heard voices.

"I'm not sure about this," Carly's mother, Marie, had said.

"Come on…leave him and I'll leave her. And we'll be together," Her friend said. The friend had a very high-class voice.

"I have Carly to think about," Marie said.

Carly walked into the kitchen and saw the two of them. Their backs were turned to her.

It was the first time that Carly had seen her mother's friend. All she knew about him was that his name was Randy and that he smelt sweet. Randy was a tall man with black hair and a slim body.

Randy said, "Forget about that. I'll take care of her. I will be her new father and I will give her everything."

Marie paused softly before she sighed, "I…I just can't, Randy."

"Marie, don't you love me?" Randy said, his voice getting desperate.

"…Of course I do."

"Then leave your husband. Marry me."

"Randy, it's not that simple. I'm not like you. I can't just write my husband a check like you can with your wife," Marie told her.

Randy said, "You can't have it both ways. I won't be toyed with anymore."

Marie rolled her eyes, "I'm not toying with you. I just need more time to think." Marie walked over to the kitchen.

Randy looked over at the counter and saw the knives in the wooden block.

He picked one up and balanced it on his hands.

"So…you're not going to leave him," Randy said.

"…Honestly….I probably won't," Marie said as she stared at the sink.

Randy then took the knife and stabbed Marie in the neck.

"Mommy!" Carly cried out. Blood started to come out of her mother's neck. So much blood.

Then Randy stabbed Marie in the back, "You lying whore!"

Carly was paralyzed. She couldn't speak or move.

Randy then threw Marie to the floor. Carly's mother was gurgling and choking. The man started to rip off her clothes and he pulled down his pants.

Carly had no idea what he was doing. He was hurting her, obviously, but it wasn't clear to Carly what was going on.

It seemed like hours later, but Marie's eyes became cold and glassy. She also became quiet. Randy grunted as he got off of Marie and zipped his pants. He was covered in blood.

Carly let out a whimper as she ran over to her mother. She put her hand on Marie's shoulder, "Mommy! Mommy!"

Randy shook his head as he turned to Carly, "…Say a word to anyone and I will do the same thing to you."

He left the room, leaving Carly to cry over her mother's dead body.

It wasn't for another hour that Carly's father finally came home.

Carly didn't speak for a week, scared that she would tell about Randy and that he would come and kill her.

And then…Carly became angry. Her mother was gone and she was scared all the time. All because of that man. But there was nothing she could do.

It was one sunny morning. Carly was alone in her room. Dinah was rubbing her small body against Carly's leg.

The six-year-old girl looked down at the kitten. She picked the cat up and looked at it. She walked over to the window and looked out at the sky.

Anger. Rage. Her mother. Dead. Blood.

It wasn't until she heard the cat screaming that she realized what she had done.

The window in her room was open.

The cat was no longer in her hands.

Carly looked out the window and saw her dismembered cat on the sidewalk.

Now…

Carly woke up and her eyes blinked softly. She sat up in the queen sized bed and looked over at the digital clock. Three in the morning.

She glanced over at the bathroom door. She could see the light illuminating from the bathroom. She also heard the sound of someone gagging and throwing up.

Carly did nothing. She just turned on the radio by her bed to cover up the noise and she fell back asleep.


End file.
